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Posts tagged ‘Stomacher’


The first time I laid eyes on my son Jarrod’s father, he was standing on a stage playing a guitar and singing into a microphone. I was completely captivated.

Fast forward to a 10-year old boy trying to teach himself how to play guitar with no encouragement whatsoever from his mother. In fact, I had hoped it was a passing phase. It most certainly was not. I’m slightly ashamed when I think of my indifference to my son wanting to play guitar back then. His father and I were no longer married, but his stepfather had an old acoustic laying around and from the moment that kid picked up the guitar, he never put it down.

To this day.


In my own defense, I lived through the crazy years of his father playing in a band. We piled all the equipment into station wagons and caravaned all over the San Francisco Bay Area. They played one dive bar after another. Occasionally there was a good venue, but mostly these were places that had seen better days and didn’t care that I was underage, though I carried a fake ID just in case. We partied too much, we slept too little, and we made no money. So it was all of that that I wanted to keep him from.

But I couldn’t.

There is no doubt that there have been years of him partying too much, sleeping too little and not making much money from his music, but it’s nowhere near the same. I’m not sure why, but it just seemed dirtier, and reckless, and more volatile back then.

And so, not going to college wasn’t an option for him as long as I had anything to say about it, and I had plenty to say about it. Off he went to San Diego, and eventually so did the rest of the band he was in, but he graduated in four years. I felt my work was done (wink).

I didn’t come to love his music until he was almost through with school because I wasn’t really into death metal, but eventually that went away. The guys grew up, and so did their music.


I’m grateful that Jarrod has figured out a way to balance the responsibility of being an adult with pursuing his passion. There was no denying the boy and his guitar.


Here’s a link to some new stuff. Barefoot Girls is my favorite.


It’s a Wrap!

The movie is not wrapped, but 40 Days of Writing is…

Today is Day 40 of the 40 Days of Writing project. I opted to do it a little differently this time around. Though I wrote almost every day, I didn’t post to my blog daily, the way I did last time. I didn’t have the time to start and finish something, but I wrote. I entered a couple writing contests, submitted a couple poems and I’m continuing to work on a longer piece. I’m very grateful for the project. It was instrumental in motivating me to keep writing, to keep practicing, and to love the process. Even though it’s over, the love of writing is not, and I can’t thank Kate Graham enough for having this idea, starting this community, and inspiring so many.

Now I’m going to do a flashback from last night:

At the very moment I am typing these words, it is close to midnight and I am in between scenes on the short film that I am acting in. This is our second all-nighter. I just watched the director and the script supervisor prepare the fake blood for the next scene. I will not be the one with blood on me, though part of me wishes I was. I’m in the scene, but I will be left standing. I think I’m crawling around in the brush in my next scene. It is cold outside and I’m beginning to get sleepy. Adrenaline, a lively cast & crew, including Iggy, who is feeding us the best damn 1AM dinners ever, and the fabulous Elizabeth Cosin, writer/director, who I am growing to love, is keeping me going. Keeping all of us going.

Iggy, serving up our 1am feast from the first all-nighter

Kevin and I, waiting for “Action” at 3:30am

Now we are back in the present:

The weekend was a blur, but here it is:

Friday night at 8pm we started filming. We finished at 6:15am on Saturday morning.

I went to sleep at 7am, woke at 9:30, went back to sleep at 11:30, woke at 1:30, left my house at 3:30 to go  to San Francisco to see Stomacher at Slim’s and got home at 2am on Sunday morning.

Stomacher at Slim’s

I slept until 8:30. I got up, I wrote,  I spent some time with a friend’s poems, I studied some acting tips and I wasted time on Facebook. I did not clean my house or do laundry or fix the areas on my porch where I applied too much oil resulting is sticky spots. At 2pm I laid down on my couch and slept like a corpse. Literally. I was flat on my back with my hands crossed in front of me. I woke up at 4 in the exact same position.

Beautiful Porch waiting for a few finishing touches

I went back to the set at 8pm last night and we worked until 4:30am. I was home and sound asleep by 5. I was able to get three hours of deep slumber. Then my dreaded alarm went off and I dragged myself to my real job, where now, on my lunch hour, in a daze, I am finishing this blog that I started last night on the set.

Here is a great shot of movie making in progress. We are having a ball. 🙂

A sneak peek (our Director is in the white hat)


That’s me today! Smiling!

I did not care that my car told me it was 97 degrees outside. As I sat in my office all day today, next to a space heater that was turned on (remember, I work next to a very cold wine cellar), all I could think of was getting on my bike. It has been nine days since I have ridden and I was antsy. I watched the clock. It stood still.

I haven’t been on the bike due to a chest cold, or bronchitis or whatever it is that sends your otherwise healthy set of lungs on a vacation to hell. If you are a friend to me on Facebook or have read any of my blogs the past few days, then you know this. I’m still not feeling 100%, but I thought well enough today to go for a short ride. I have a friend that would probably disagree after hearing my voice and listening to me cough on the phone last night. I sort of like the husky, sexy quality that a chest cold brings to my voice, but last night’s voice went beyond. Tom Waits was more like it.

(Take a break and enjoy Tom Waits).

Not to be deterred, I went for a ride.  Me and Scotty. Scotty is the name of my bike. My bike is a SCOTT, hence the name Scotty. Gee, I wonder how many other Scottys are out there. I’m so original. But that’s what I started calling him when he moved in, and that’s what he looks like to me, so I’m not changing it.

I had Stomacher’s new album on my iPod. I was a mostly happy girl. It was damn hot! More water ended up on my head than down my throat. Still it was great, and since I decided not to push it today, I stopped for a couple photos along the way so you will know that not only was Scotty willing to be the subject of my blog today, I also live in wine country paradise.

Scotty on Chiquita Road

Scotty on Dry Creek Road

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